


Causes and Correlates

by Trojie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Graduate School, Kissing, M/M, Sexual orientation confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's thesis is due and his magic is going nuts. The last thing he needs in the middle of this mess  is Morgana's brother's birthday party. Or Morgana's brother, full stop. Modern AU with magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Causes and Correlates

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** 28
> 
>  **Author's Notes:** How close I stuck to the OP's dream I don't know, but I would like to thank the OP for their inspiring prompt and hope they like my humble offering <3 I would also like to thank my gorgeous, glorious beta-reader.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.

'I should be writing my thesis,' says Merlin, but Gwen is already pushing a beer into his hand. 

'You need a break,' counters Morgana. 'You can't keep pulling all-nighters, Merlin - that last section you sent me to look at had basically no nouns in it.'

'I'm not sure getting drunk at your brother's birthday party counts as a break,' Merlin points out, but even he can acknowledge that he sounds half-hearted. Truth is, he does need a break, and some socialising is probably the best kind. 

There's a commotion, or perhaps a hubbub, in the next room over, and suddenly Arthur appears in the doorway amidst a throng of his friends. 'Snogs for the birthday boy!' a tall, pretty guy with floppy brown hair declares, and shoves Arthur through the door. 

Gwen lets him bend her over backwards like something off a romance novel cover, but their kiss is mostly posing, and she gives him a hug afterwards. Morgana presses him up against the wall, to wolf-whistles, but she's his sister and she only pecks him on the cheek. The pair of them put on such a show about it, though, that Merlin gets caught up in the laughing and whooping and general party atmosphere and doesn't notice that he's next in line. 

Apparently the fact that Arthur's just kissed or been kissed by his ex and his sister means that he's not going to shy away from anyone. Not even his sister's tag-along friend. Whom he barely knows, except to nod at in passing. And who isn't generally interested in -

Arthur snags Merlin by the front of his shirt and reels him in, and Merlin has just enough time to clamp down on his magic, which is currently being funny about him being touched without warning, before he's got Arthur all over him. Literally. Merlin has a very large hand on his left buttock, and the thumb of that hand is perilously close to sneakily hooking into his belt, and he has another very large hand on one shoulder, warm and firm. He has Arthur's rugby-playing wall of a chest up against his, and he can feel the lines of buttons from his own shirt and from Arthur's pressing into his sternum. And he has Arthur's mouth on his, also warm and firm, parted just enough to hint to Merlin that tongues could be involved, that this could go further - 

\- and then Arthur pulls away. It can't have been more than a split second, just a kiss, not kissing - a singular act or moment in time, not worthy of the use of a verb, and fuck, Merlin has been reading too many journal submission style guidelines if that's what he's thinking about right now instead of - instead of -

'Oh, I'll be back for _you_ ,' Arthur mutters in Merlin's ear as they pull away from each other. He licks his lips.

'I"m not - ' Merlin says as Arthur moves onto the floppy-brown-hair guy and gets a full-on snog with half his shirt getting unbuttoned that he has to wrestle his way out of, and so on and so forth around the party. Snogs for the birthday boy. 

'I have to go,' Merlin says when the mob have swirled on by with Arthur in their clutches. He puts his drink down. His heart is pounding and his magic is acting up all over the place like it did when he was a kid and didn't have any bloody self-control. It's unfair. He's _tired_ , he's vulnerable, or something - everyone knows thesis students are like narcoleptic caffeine-fuelled time bombs. You can't just go around randomly kissing them and expecting it to be fine. 'I really - I need to go,' he babbles, grabbing his stuff.

'But we only just got started,' says Morgana, waving a bottle of wine in his direction with her arm around Gwen's waist. 'Come on, your thesis can manage without you for one night.'

'I'm sorry, I have to -' says Merlin, spotting Arthur's blond hair out of the corner of his eye, and turning tail. 

'Merlin!' Gwen calls after him, but she's too late. 

Merlin makes it out almost to the front gate before there're quick footsteps behind him and Arthur grabs at his shoulder, gently. 'Hey, didn't you hear me calling you?' he asks.

'Sorry,' says Merlin, feeling slightly weak-kneed and still violently trying to shove his magic back down. He doesn't quite know what it wants to do, exactly, but since 'randomly explode letterboxes' has been on the table at least once before when it's acted up, he's not inclined to let it have its way now. 'I - uh, I have a lot of work to do, and it's getting late, you know, I turn into a pumpkin if I stay up past ten thirty -' 

He's babbling. But Arthur is clearly an entitled drunk, because he leans in again, hands carefully framing Merlin's shoulders, and kisses him again. And again, and again - soft, insistent kisses that catch at Merlin's lower lip, at the corner of his mouth, leave him breathless and turned upside-down with the rush of magic and blood through his veins. He forgets what he was saying, what he was doing - he just opens himself to Arthur and gets openness in return.

'I have to -' Merlin says when they pull back, dizzy and anoxic. 'I -'

'Hush,' Arthur orders him gently, wide-eyed and pleased. 'You may leave my party, because I am not a tyrant, despite the fact that I want to make you go back inside and have cake and dance with me. But you will take my number,' he flourishes a Sharpie he's just pulled out of his pocket, 'and you will call me, and if you don't, I will get your number off my sister and I will call you. Are we clear?' He releases Merlin's shoulders in order to start writing messy digits on the palm of his hand instead.

'Um, I think we may have got off on the wrong foot here,' says Merlin, a little faintly. 'Because I'm not really -'

'There we go,' says Arthur, regarding his penmanship with clear pride. 'I even remembered to put the area code. So there's no excuse.' 

He then turns Merlin around, opens the gate for him, and pats him on the bum solicitiously as he leaves. 

Merlin's magic goes slightly nuts, and Merlin marches himself home with a face that feels hot enough to fry an egg on. 

***

Merlin's last set of data comes back from the lab first thing Monday morning, and suddenly the last push to his deadline is _on_. Between the data analysis and the write-up, Gaius barely leaves Merlin enough spare time or brain function to manage to microwave a bowl full of baked beans, let alone think much about Arthur, or kisses, or how he kind of actually does want to call him. 

It's something about the way Arthur was so pleased about remembering to write down his area code - something about the way he smiled into Merlin's face after a couple of seconds' worth of kiss, or about the way he thought Merlin was worth chasing down to the garden gate. 

But if Merlin called him right now it'd just be gibberish, and maybe this is all thesis-brain screwing with Merlin anyway. He doesn't _go_ for guys, you know? It's just the timing, has to be - timing and half a beer on an empty stomach and stress, confusing him. So. Data-analysis wins.

A week and a half later, Arthur (clearly tired of waiting) calls him instead. 'I can't help but notice that I'm the one who did the dialling of numbers here,' is his opening line. 'I hope this division of labour isn't going to characterise our relationship.'

Merlin freezes, on the other end of the phone, like a rabbit seeing the shadow of a hawk. 'Um,' he says. _I barely know you_ , he wants to say. 'Arthur, we're not having a relationship.' 

'Well, no,' says Arthur. He laughs, breath huffing against the speaker of his phone. 'That's why I called, to ask if you'd like to begin one by possibly coming out to a film with me sometime.'

The easiest excuses come to mind first, need the least explanation given Merlin's bizarre behaviour at the party, so he says the same thing he's been saying to everyone and every offer of social interaction lately. 'I'm busy, I have my thesis -'

'If you can't take four hours off to have a meal and see a film, you won't make whatever ridiculous deadline you've set yourself,' Arthur points out. 

It's pretty much the same point Morgana has been making for the past month and a half. And Gwen. Even Dr. Gaius, with a raised eyebrow at Merlin over the top of the noun-less chapter, has told him he needs to take a break. 

'Come on, what's the problem?' Arthur asks, pushy and amused like he was on the night of his party.

'I don't - I'm not,' says Merlin. 'I'm straight,' is what he finally says. 'I'm sorry,' and he hangs up before he can drop the phone, his hands are shaking so much.

The stupid thing is, Merlin isn't sure if he is either of those things. All he knows, really knows in the marrow of his bones as he watches and feels his power crumple the phone up into a plastic pretzel, is that this is the wrong time for something this big to turn up in his life. 

***

The day Merlin turns in his thesis, Gaius peers into his bloodshot eyes and tells Gwen and Morgana, who are hovering in the doorway, to take him away, get him riotously drunk as tradition dictates, and then put him to bed. 

'And Merlin?' he says, as Merlin numbly walks out of the office, bereft of thesis and unsure of which way is up in his personal universe, 'I'm proud of you, my boy. Very proud. But please, take a week and rest.'

Gwen and Morgana take Merlin by the wrists and drag him out to the student bar. He doesn't really remember much of the next forty-eight hours.

***

Now that he's a free man, albeit one who's 'under examination', Merlin apparently has to be reintroduced to all the great pleasures of studenthood that he's forgotten about. He's not entirely sure his liver is going to thank him for this, but oh well.

'You have absolutely no excuses this time,' says Morgana, and if Merlin doesn't take the beer she's literally shoving into the palm of his hand, it'll drop and break. 'You're going to have fun if it kills me.'

'Your attitudes to socialising are scary,' says Merlin, but he gulps the neck of the beer anyway. Against his better judgement, or maybe he's still just coming down from that twitchy feeling of guilt he used to get every time he did something that wasn't _thesis_ , he's enjoying himself already. There's music, there's booze, it's a warm night, and he's with his two best friends at a party and he has no reason not to be here. 

His magic coils around him like a happy, contented cat. It's been calmer since he's been sleeping more, since the source of his stress has been dealt with. So maybe Merlin drinks a bit more than he's used to. It's a blast from the past - Morgana and Gwen are playing roulette with five shots each of water and one of vodka, giggling and making faces, and Merlin's drinking beer that he doesn't recognise by taste but which is smooth and golden going down. Whoever's iPod is plugged in right now has shuffled through to something warm and acoustic, and it's like being in the first year of postgrad again - no urgency, that sense of being right where you want to be, before deadlines come calling and null hypotheses refuse to be rejected and you find that one paper that was published seven years ago and which totally proves that your research question has already been addressed in a slightly different way. 

'Hey,' says someone soft and low in his ear, and Merlin spins around in his seat. 

He can't tell if the sudden lack of balance is from the alcohol or the spinning or the fact that it's Arthur standing there, a safe distance away but still right _there_ , something crooked and hopeful on his face. 

'Uh, hey,' Merlin says, trying to sit up like he's not half-cut. 'I'm sor-'

'No, don't you apologise, for God's sake,' says Arthur, laughing awkwardly. 'I'm an arse when I drink, everyone says so, and clearly I can't read signals to save myself. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. Rest assured, it won't happen again.' He waves a bottle of Coke at Merlin. 'See? Completely sober tonight. You're totally safe. I only came over to say sorry, anyway, I'll leave you to your evening -' He's starting to almost babble, and Merlin feels sorry for him. 

'No, stay,' he says, without entirely meaning to. 'These two are no fun when they start doing shots, it always ends with me seeing something that scars me for life - save me?'

Gwen has her head in Morgana's lap on the couch across the table from Merlin, and Morgana is giggling and trying to feed her jelly shots without getting them on her own clothes. Merlin would ordinarily go over there and join the cuddle pile and try to get the girls to switch to water by this point, but he doesn't want Arthur to go away. 

He's confused. But he's confused about a lot right now. 

'I suppose I should stay and at least make sure no-one passes out,' Arthur agrees, and pulls up another chair. 'And I include you in that list, actually. Just so you know.'

'I haven't had that many,' Merlin counters, although strictly speaking he can't remember how many he has had.

'Just enough to be falling over the table,' says Arthur. 'As your host, I should cut you off.' He reaches out and takes Merlin's beer out of his hands, and smiles. It's over in a second, but his fingers brush Merlin's for a tiny moment, and Merlin's magic goes _yes_.

And Merlin's brain, which in fairness still hasn't quite got back up to speed post-thesis, goes _ohhh_. 

***

Gwen ends up dragging Morgana away, God knows where (Merlin doesn't want to know, just makes sure they both have their cellphones on them in case of nebulous emergencies), and Merlin and Arthur colonise the couch, people-watching and talking. 

Arthur insisted on giving Merlin his Coke, and after a while he started absentmindedly sipping on the beer he'd taken out of Merlin's hands, clearly forgetting his intentions of not drinking tonight.

'Oh, you're _Gaius's_ student,' says Arthur, like something has just become clear in his head. 'He said he'd just had someone hand in, didn't say who. Father was so pleased. Tell me you're going to publish something out of your research - Gaius's output has been low the last couple of years, he needs to lift his citations or the Board are -' He catches himself, and sort of gestures with the beer bottle. 'Sorry, I'm probably boring you silly.'

Merlin squints at him. He knew Morgana's father (and therefore, by extension, Arthur's father) was the Dean of the Science Faculty; it's just weird hearing about the trials and tribulations of academia that Gaius drones on about at him from the other side. 'I've got three papers planned,' he says. 'You're not boring me,' he adds, twisting the Coke bottle between his fingers.

Arthur grins, dimples showing briefly, and leans in a bit. They're sitting sprawled against the back of the couch with their legs tucked up, curling towards each other. 'Rubbish,' he says. 'I'm willing to bet the last thing you want right now is yet more bloody university gossip.'

'Maybe you should change the subject then,' Merlin suggests, and can't help but shift a little closer. 'Not that I'm complaining.'

'Of course not,' says Arthur smirking. 

Merlin hasn't felt so comfortable, in a situation, with a person, in his own _skin_ , since … he can't remember when. So of course, this is when Gwen texts him to tell him Morgana's a total lightweight and she's taking her home and has he punched Arthur in the face yet? Or is he getting some? And there's an awful winky face emoticon. 

Merlin stares at it for long enough that Arthur says, 'Something important?'

'Your sister is a lightweight,' Merlin says, blinking. 'I should go, it normally takes two people to get her to leave a bar.' He looks up, and Arthur's almost pouting over the beer bottle resting against his lips. 'But you've got my number, right?'

Arthur winces. 'I deleted it,' he confesses. 'After that call. I thought you'd never want anything to do with me ever again.'

'I just didn't want to date you,' Merlin says, helplessly. He has no idea what you say to a guy you met through unexpected and unwanted snogging and whom you now want to hang out with a lot. 'I mean, you throw really good parties -' and Arthur throws back his head and laughs. 

'Alright,' he says, putting the beer down and fishing in his pocket for a pen. 'This time, you write your number on me, and I promise I will call next time I'm throwing a party.'

***

_Three months later_

Merlin spends two and a half months coming to terms with the fact that maybe he isn't as straight as he assumed he was (in fairness, with only one previous relationship, he wasn't in a position to draw statistically sound conclusions with regards to the gender/s he might fancy). Those months are full of Arthur texting him because he's bored in his Honours-level seminars, and football matches at the local grounds with Arthur bundled up in the home team's colours and Merlin just bundled up and slightly bewilderedly trying to join in with the chants, and Arthur attempting to cook dinner and invariantly ending up ordering pizza. And slowly but surely, Merlin figures it out. They're not dating. But maybe they should be.

It then takes Merlin a fortnight to grow a pair enough to approach Arthur with the intention of … ironing out the statistics.

They're sitting on the couch at Arthur's place, same as always these days, and Merlin eases closer, clears his throat. Apropos of nothing, because he really can't think of a decent lead-in line, he says, 'Could we … try again?'

'Hmmm? Try what again?' Arthur's attention is half on the football, but Merlin'll be damned if he'll go through psyching himself up to this a second time. Arthur is just going to have to start paying attention. 

It takes Arthur six seconds to cotton on to the fact that Merlin's trying to kiss him, but he makes up for it pretty fast. Merlin just goes in for it, knows he's out of practice but figuring it's like riding a bicycle or running a Student's T-test - you never forget, right? Arthur, once he gets over his shock, grins against Merlin's soft, open mouth and threads his fingers into Merlin's hair, and before Merlin knows what's happening he's in Arthur's lap.

'I was hoping,' says Arthur between kisses, catching Merlin's bottom lip in his teeth gently. 'I wasn't sure, but -'

Merlin wriggles closer, warm with touch and the power purring in his veins, smug like it's finally got what it wanted all along. 'I never expected this,' he says softly, half into Arthur's skin. 'I never - you weren't in my starting variables, you know.'

'I hoped,' Arthur says again, rucking his hands up under Merlin's t-shirt, hot against Merlin's skin. 'I thought, maybe he just has to do the maths on this one.'

***

_Six months later_

Dean Pendragon mispronounces half the words in the brief abstract of Merlin's thesis he reads out to the audience, but his handshake when Merlin crosses the stage to receive his degree is warm and firm and sincere.

And later that night, Dr. Merlin Emrys throws his Knox bonnet up in the air and bends Arthur over like that wartime photo, in the middle of the on-campus bar, and kisses him while their friends cheer, and his magic sparks and showers gold like fireflies or fireworks around them.


End file.
